


Talk Me Down

by Toxic_Essence



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Canon compliance who? Never heard of her, Caring Stephen Strange, Comfort, Depressed Tony Stark, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Husbands, M/M, Married Couple, No Smut, Post-Canon, References to Depression, Stephen Strange is a Good Bro, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Deserves A Break, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:29:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24382849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toxic_Essence/pseuds/Toxic_Essence
Summary: After the events of Endgame, the world is a mess. Tony, still hurt from his own snap, is made to deal with said mess.It doesn't go very well.[Or where Tony snaps mentally, and Stephen has to talk his husband down]
Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Comments: 2
Kudos: 118





	Talk Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> Ya boi's back on his bullshit =D

Tony had never felt more tired in his life. To be fair, the constant ache in his side, along with the migraine he had been nursing for upwards of three days wasn’t helping. Neither was the fact that it was a Thursday, and he hadn’t gotten more than 2 hours of sleep that week, total, and _fucking Ross_ was _still_. _Fucking. Talking._

The world had gone to shit after Thanos’ snap and had somehow managed to get even worse after the Avenger’s had brought everyone back. Years of grief, confusion, and loss had plagued the world - _the universe_ \- and to say that having billions of people return all at once after people had only _just_ started to move on had caused the world to go into shock was an understatement. And of course, just like always, Tony had been the one chosen to deal with it.

Not that it mattered that he had been the one to bear the infinity stones and snap Thanos and his army out of existence, losing his arm in the process. Not that it mattered that it had barely been a week and he was still recovering. No, of course not. His well-being never mattered to others if it wasn’t convenient for them.

Stephen would try to convince him otherwise, though it hadn’t been getting through to him recently. Don’t get him wrong, Tony was beyond grateful to have his husband back, but it felt too surreal to him. Five years of his life spent thinking things through, wondering where he had gone wrong, what he could’ve done differently, mourning the loss of his love and the world. Five years spent living with Pepper and Christine at their’s and Rhodey’s insistence because they didn’t trust him to be on his own. Five years finding his husband's presence in the most random of places, from one of his old med school hoodies in their closet to a picture of the two of them with Peter above the sink, but no matter what, the sorcerer was never truly there. 

But now he was back, truly alive again, and Tony couldn't process. He had woken up to Stephen's teary face watching over him in the medical wing of the hastily constructed emergency compound, two days after he had snapped. The days that followed were quiet, few words spoken between the two. Stephen had broken down when they were alone, trying to explain through broken words why he had done what he had. Tony had remained quiet, not quite sure whether or not what he was hearing was real, or if he was dead and just hallucinating his husband next to him. On the fifth day, Stephen had managed to coax a few words out of him, getting a brief explanation of what had happened after Thanos, when Tony's phone had started ringing. 

The U.N. had called an international meeting (conveniently in New York) and Tony had been summoned to represent the Avengers, just as he had after every catastrophe. Stephen had immediately offered to accompany him, and under any other circumstances Tony would've happily agreed, but as it was Tony was tired (god, he was so _fucking_ _tired_ ), and dazed, and in pain and could barely string together more than a few short sentences at a time, and had decided that he was more than fit to go on his own. Somehow. Of course, he wasn't actually, and Stephen knew this, but some distant part of his mind (one that liked to point out how incredibly out of place he felt after having been gone for so long) had convinced him to let Tony go, reluctant as he was to do so. 

More alert now, Tony wished more than anything his stupid husband had used their single shared brain cell to convince Tony to let him go with him. Sitting in the meeting room with the U.S. representatives, listening to Ross drone on and on about whatever the fuck he was talking about, Tony wanted nothing more than to take the pen the Secretary was holding and stab him with it. Maybe more than thrice. Tony had zoned out over an hour ago, reflecting on the past five years and wondering how he and everyone else was supposed to simply go back to normal after everything that had happened. 

How he was supposed to go back home, and look at Stephen, and talk to him and hold him and simply exist around him without feeling like he had failed him. Without imagining his face turning to ash, without that phantom feeling of his body disintegrating in Tony's arms, nothing but dust in the wind of an alien planet. 

How was he supposed to face Stephen when it felt as though guilt was constantly consuming his very soul, reminding him that his husband, his love, had died because of _Tony?_

That he had killed him?

* * *

Arriving back at his hotel, Tony's lungs had decided that air was no longer a thing that existed. He slammed the door behind himself, hand flying to his chest as his lungs constricted, a scream erupting from his throat as he kicked at the chair in front of him, sending it flying to the ground and into the coffee table that sat in the middle of the room. He grabbed a glass vase filled with multicoloured marbles next and launched it at the floor to ceiling windows that made up a wall of his room. It shattered, sending marbles and bits of glass flying, but Tony didn't stop. He grabbed everything in the near vicinity, tossing and kicking them and screaming all the while. 

It took fifteen minutes until his heart was beating at a semi-regular pace again and he had stopped hyperventilating. Dazedly, his feet took him out of the hotel room and to the stairs, before leading him to the hotel’s roof. 

The cold night wind slapped him in the face the moment Tony opened the door. 35 storeys up, Tony walked to the edge of the roof and sat down heavily, his empty arm sleeve flapping around at the mercy of the wind. He took in the sights which were, admittedly, not new to him, but breathtaking nonetheless. For the first time in years, lights filled more windows than ever, illuminating the city as the sun set below the horizon in the distance. The tear tracks that had painted themselves on his face back in the safety of his room felt cold as ice in the frigid air, numbing his skin.

After years of nonstop destructive thoughts and heavy emotions, sitting on the roof of his hotel, Tony felt nothing. He heard nothing. His mind quieted as he looked down at the street 140 metres below him, his feet dangling over the edge where he sat, an empty shell of a man. 

Tony was tired.

* * *

It was three in the morning when Stephen’s phone started ringing. Ready to just ignore it and go back to sleep, because what the fuck was someone doing calling him at such an ungodly hour, Stephen pulled his pillow over his head and turned around, before Friday’s voice sounded throughout the room.

“Doctor Strange, it seems that Mr Stark is trying to reach you,” the AI announced quietly.

That got Stephen’s attention. “Friday, answer for me, would you?” 

A moment later, Tony’s voice filled their bedroom. “Hey Stephanie, sorry to ruin your beauty sleep,” he said, his voice unsteady and slightly raspy.

Now Stephen was sitting straight up in their bed, listening closely to his husband. “It’s fine, Tony. What are you doing awake?”

“Oh, you know me,” Tony laughed, though it sounded more like a sob than anything, “such a night owl.”

“Of course,” Stephen laughed in return, even though it was just a poor attempt at hiding his nerves. “How um, how was the conference today?”

Tony didn’t respond to that, and in his silence, Stephen could hear the tell-tale sounds of rushing wind and distant car horns. “Tony?”

“I feel like I’m talking to your ghost.” Stephen hadn’t been expecting that.

“What do you mean, Tony? What are you talking about, where are you?”

“Does it matter? What does it matter, Stephen? Why should any of it matter?”

“Tony, what are you-”

“I miss you. God, I miss you.”

“I’m right here, Tony. Come on, just-”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Stephen. I fucked up, I know I did, and I’m so sorry.”

“Anthony-”

“I don’t know why you did it, and I don’t think I’ll ever understand. My life isn’t worth it, Steph.”

“Friday, mute me. I need you to tell me where Tony is, _now_.”

“I spent five years wondering why, wondering what I had done to deserve to live, wondering where I fucked up so badly that you and Peter and every-fucking-one else had to die.”

“Sir seems to be at his hotel,” Friday chimed in. 

“Bring up a picture,” Stephen replied, already reaching for his phone on the bedside table while Tony continued talking in the background.

“I visited the kid on my way to the U.N. yesterday. God, you should’ve seen his face. Stephen, he would barely even _talk_. Then May opened a window, and he just, he freaked out. Jumped and held onto me for dear life, thought he was gonna turn to dust again.”

Stephen’s vision blurred slightly, tears fighting to surface as Friday sent a picture of the hotel to his phone.

“I remember holding you. Not being able to do anything as you and him turned to dust. Did you know I was stranded on Titan after that? Then Nebula, she tried to get us home, but the ship was too damaged. I talked to you, every day, right until the very end. I fell asleep thinking about you, Steph. Then I woke up, and we were back on Earth, and I thought it was just a bad nightmare, but you were still _gone-_ ”

Tony broke off, his words turning to quiet sobs just as Stephen started conjuring a portal, the image of the hotel in mind and his phone stuck between his shoulder and ear.

“You were gone,” Tony whispered, his voice breaking. “You were gone, and it was all my fault.” A quiet pause, before he murmured, “I should’ve died, Stephen.”

“Oh Tony, no, no, no, honey, it wasn’t your fault, none of it-” Stephen stepped through the portal and quickly closed it behind him, looking up just in time to see a dark figure stand up on the ledge of the hotel roof, “none… none of it was your fault.”

“You say that like it’s true.”

“Because it is.”

“It’s really not.”

“Hey, love, what are you doing right now?”

It felt like an eternity before Tony answered. “I’m watching the stars. The lights. It feels like space.”

“Are you sitting or standing?”

“...Standing.”

Stephen was conjuring another portal before he was even aware he had lifted his hands.

“Tell me something, Tony. Something… something happy, something that made you happy.”

“Meeting you,” Tony said without hesitation. “You… you made so happy. But now you’re gone.”

“I’m not. I’m right here, Tony,” Stephen ran through the portal, letting it collapse behind him and setting his phone down. “Tony!”

Brown eyes met his blue ones, and Stephen felt his heart drop. “Tony, get down.”

“You…” Stephen stepped forward slowly, holding his arms out. 

“I’m here, Tony. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. But you’ve gotta step down from there.”

Moments passed, and finally Tony stepped down. Stephen wrapped his arms around his husband as though Tony was his lifeline.

At that moment, he was.

  
  


* * *

Stephen brought Tony back to their bedroom in the emergency compound after they had both calmed down enough. He gently took off Tony’s jacket and tossed it somewhere in their room, before climbing into bed with the man. Stephen wrapped his arms around the older man, holding him close and resting Tony’s head against his chest, right next to his heart.

“I’m alive, Tony. So are you.” He could feel his husband shaking in his arms, and rubbed gentle circles into his back. “It’s going to be okay. Just let it out. Just…”

They cried. 

* * *

Stephen didn’t let Tony go back to the U.N. the next day. Instead, he took it upon himself to call whoever the fuck he needed to and informed them that Tony was going to unavailable. Indefinitely. And that they should be ashamed that they even called him in when he had just gone and saved the entire _universe_ and had barely even had a week to heal because were they even aware of the sacrifice that the hero had made-

As amusing as it was to see his husband defend him, Tony had Friday cut the call before Stephen got himself in trouble with the world governments. 

They sat in silence for the rest of the day, just holding each other.

* * *

A few days passed before Tony explained to Stephen what had happened after the snap. Stephen held him close as he talked, and again, they cried together as Stephen did everything he could reassure his husband that they were okay.

They both knew it was going to be a long period of recovery. 

That was fine. Even if it didn’t feel like it sometimes, they had each other again.

That was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> what has it been now, a 1? 2-year hiatus?  
> uhh, i'm alive! yay!  
> anyway, this was my first fic in this fandom, I hope y'all enjoyed
> 
> love you guys <3


End file.
